


orbit

by tooorinette



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Elavos, F/M, IM SO SOFT, Kind of a backstory, just waxing poetic here, this is like capital R romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 23:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooorinette/pseuds/tooorinette
Summary: It was as if fate itself had pulled Aaravos by his very bones to Elarion, that they had intended to give him a star to rival every blazing flame in the sky.





	orbit

**Author's Note:**

> as of writing this, we have like no canon info on who elarion actually is but i love this kind of Tragic backstory so im jumping onboard. elavos will either be canon king or it will sink and i'm here for the ride fellars

Aaravos was not supposed to _want_.

He was a Startouch elf, and he was to be as cold and unreachable as the distant stars; to be a humble interpreter between the murky river of “fate”, of time, of space, and that which existed in this world - it was not only his duty but his very nature. When Aaravos looked into the distant void of space and the stars contained within it, he could not help but stand in awe of it all - it felt as though if he just could reach out his hand far enough, he would be able to touch them, those shimmering brilliant speckles of light, yet the distance between himself and the sky was immeasurable, impossible. The weight of the universe was crushing, blinding, brilliant, terrifying; how small their world was, how smaller yet he was, how insignificant in the eyes of the cosmos was even the greatest tragedy on this planet. Yet both elves and humans had all been parts of stars so long ago - even Aaravos, with might of all Primal sources, could scarcely understand. His body ached to know the stars again.

It was as if fate itself had pulled Aaravos by his very bones to Elarion, that they had intended to give him a star to rival every blazing flame in the sky - so that he should never ache for that far-off cosmos again. It was hard to imagine her as she were that night - a cold and trembling, dying flame - when she laughed with excitement as she did magic, brighter and more sublime than any galaxy could hope to ever be.

Aaravos was not supposed to want, but he wanted so fiercely that it terrified him. _Elarion, Elarion, Elarion._ When she laughed, he laughed with her; when she mourned, he shared in her sadness; when she marveled at the wonders of magic, he, too, had found himself in awe anew in a way that he had not for so many years. Elarion had so much life in her, so much that it was hard to imagine how one human could contain all of it. Her countenance seemed to glow at even the smallest things - new magic, tiny flowers that grew on the hill, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, even bugs which crawled on and underneath the earth. She dug her fingers in and felt, felt, felt.

He, too, had been admiring the sunsets; he memorized the names of plants which grew in the forests, learned the names of even the smallest flowers which Elarion adored, every little critter and vine. They’d sit, and he’d point them out at dusk and privately wonder when he’d become so human - a Startouch elf not among the stars, but with his feet planted firmly on the ground.

Aaravos was not supposed to want, but he had found someone far more precious to him than the cold and distant stars. And he _wanted_ , despite himself; he wanted so fiercely, and it was fire that scorched from under his skin, as if it were a tangible, living flame. To feel the heat of Elarion’s skin against his own, to entangle his fingers in the long, silken strands of her dark hair, to feel the sharp exhale of her warm breath against the nape of his neck - it was so hard for him to remember he, too, was nothing more than flesh and bone sometimes. That he had a place here, too, on the earth. With her. With her.

“Elarion,” Aaravos whispered. The rain beat against the roof, the warm orange glow of the fireplace rendered a fiery halo around Elarion’s messy, curled hair from behind. The dim dark of the house was comforting; he reached to grip her thigh, situated on top of him.

She smiled a most wonderful smile. Skin against skin.

“My midnight star,” she whispered back, black hair cascading down like willows around her head above him, rubbing her thumb back and forth on his cheek gently. 

Aaravos was so hopelessly, utterly stuck in her orbit.


End file.
